She sat by the fire and spoke of the day
the day in the clearing not so far away.
Beneath the bluebells and marigold
a story unfolded, a sight to behold.

Up on the grandest mushroom cap
foxglove scepter cradled in her lap.
Wrapped in a cloak of wildflower green
the most regal of all ........ the fairy queen.

Then two by two by two they'd come
marching in step to the beat of their drum.
A bow or a courtesy the formalities done
let the music begin, it's time for some fun.

The fiddlers took stage, their tunes filled the air
dancing and laughing they had not a care.
Without any warning, a great shadow appeared
cast by a raven gliding low as he neared.

He swooped and he tried over and then
soared high in the sky then he dove once again.
The wee ones were cleaver and faster than he
running for cover in the trunk of their tree.

Oh so tiny they were, but they just couldn't hide
they gathered the weapons they had waiting inside.
We'll teach him a lesson, or a message we send
you'll never take us alive, we'll fight till the end

Pelted with berries and shots from their slings
he conceded the battle with the flap of his wings.
He flapped and he flapped then just flew away
and he's never returned ....not to this day!

Willow Dancer
08 - 04 - 03


Email Me

About Me	Buy Prints	Copyrights	Links
Submissions	Home	Poem List	Site Map